You Can See Me?
by SonamyEmic
Summary: A Jack Frost/Reader Insert, which has been reported and thus moved to Quotev: /story/3025814/You-Can-See-Me/ . Soon to be Jack/OC.
1. Touch

You wrap your coat closer around your petite frame as you stand, silently, in the snow. You marvel at it, eyes positively sparkling as you gaze at the soft, white fluffs dancing in the air. It's beautiful. It always is. You love winter, always have, and you momentarily lose yourself in the majesty of it all; the way the snow glistens when the sun hits it, the way it tickles your nose as the snowflakes brush against your face, the way it catches in your hair, weightless, careless, until-

"Y/N! Come on, we're going to catch our deaths out here if you don't help me out." Your mother's voice pulls you back to reality. "Sorry." You say, lifting one of the boxes out of the boot and making your way, carefully, to the front door of your new house in Burgess. "I was miles off. Just thinking about how much work Jack Frost must have put into winter this year." Her mother laughs fondly. "Yes, he certainly is doing his best, isn't he?" She jokes. Little does she know, you weren't kidding.

* * *

Your gaze travels over the various half-unpacked boxes and papers piled clumsily upon every surface of the sittingroom. It's a nice room, underneath all the mess. Nice house. You could, you decide, get used to it here, after a while at least. A fire crackles soothlingly in the grate, and it makes you feel warmer and safer. The livingroom is cosy; there's a sofa and an armchair placed in front of the fire, hardwood floors and three large windows overlooking the forest beyond. In the background, the sound system is playing a compilation of christmas songs. You sip your tea and slump into your favorite armchair. It's warm and fuzzy and you are just able to set down your mug before you slip into a pleasant state of half-sleep, half-consiousness until finally, minutes later, you are dreaming of snow and christmas and Jack Frost, the winter spirit that has always kept you mesmerized and intrigued.

You deserve this sleep. It has been a long day.

* * *

There had been a reason for your mother choosing the house by the forest. It's for you. She had known that the move would be hard on you, so she had tried to make it as comfortable for you as she could. You were grateful; you loved nature and it meant a lot that your mother had put so much thought into finding a place for you to explore, to call your own. "Hardly anyone goes in there. Apparently, there was an accident with a boy a long time ago..." She had shuddered, then laughed nervously. "A very long time ago. It's probably just a story, but still, no-one tends to hang about there all too much. It'll be all yours. You're own little world." You had smiled at that, before pulling your mother into a hug.

And so, when Monday came and a snow day was announced, it seemed like the perfect place to be. You rushed down the oak stairs and grabbed your coat off the banister. "Mum, I'm going out for a bit. The woods." You call, and your mother's head pops out of the kitchen. "Allright darling. Be careful, won't you?" "Of course, mum." You say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before sweeping out the front door. A few children were playing on the other side of the road. You smile at their laughter. "I love snow days." You murmur absentmindedly to yourself.

"You're welcome." A a quiet, deep male voice drawls happily. You look around, surprised, for the speaker, but when you see no-one you dismiss the faint noise as your imagination and set off into the trees.

* * *

It's beautiful here. There's snow everywhere, seemingly untouched and undesturbed for who knows how long. There's a kind of magic in the air you just can't seem to place as your eyes, big and curious, drink in the spectacle. You investigate a small cave, catch a glimpse of a fox and here and there there's a quiet rustling noise as some kind of animal- though the only thing you see is a flash of blue- makes it's way around it's home. Growing more adventurous and curious than ever, you make your way through a small thicket before coming before a clearing.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

In front of you is possibly the most beautiful place you have ever seen- the most incredible, frozen lake, dusted with frost and incredible, icy patterns, the trees hanging over it, shielding it from the big, bad world outside. It is as if time stands still in this place and you are just lucky enough to stand still with it. Snow covers the ground around the lake, like a white blanket of glistening, white jewels. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Beautiful." You breathe quietly.

"Isn't it just?"

You don't hear it this time. You're too caught up in the spell of the lake to hear the voice of Jack Frost, perched in a tree above your head. He's watching you. He sees you're around his age- or, well, physical age- and he observes as you sit on the rock by the lake in silence, just breathing, relaxing, forgetting everything and he smiles. You seem nice. He wants to go up and talk to you, but right now he just didn't have the heart to be looked straight through again, as always. He just wanted to sit there and pretend that you could see him, touch him. He wanted to imagine, for a moment, he was normal, and you could laugh together and run together and walk together.

He's brought back to reality as you start to sing.

You were humming quietly for some time to yourself, before words started to take charge of their own accord, and suddenly Jack could feel his foot tapping along to the rythm of the farmiliar song.

"_I really can't stay._" You begin hesitantly, before continuing quickly with the male part of the song: "_Baby, it's cold outside._"

"_I gotta go 'way..._" "_Baby it's cold outside._" You both sing the second part at the same time, Jack barely audible as he just begins to get into the swing of the christmassy song.

"_This evening has been..._" "_Been hoping that you'd drop in..._" You hear someone murmur it somewhere behind you and your heartrate picks up. The voice sounds soft yet definitely male, and you glance around quickly to see if there's anyone there. There isn't, so you continue with the song, testing, listening. "_So very nice." "I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice._" The voice is louder this time, the volume of a normal onversing voice; certain, soothing, calm. It's a nice moment, you think, singing a song with a mysterious stranger in a wood hardly anyone entered.

"_My mother will start to worry._" You chime again. "_Beautiful, what's your hurry?_" The voice replies, echoing around them. He sings nicely, you note. You are enjoying this moment a lot; it's like something out of a film. It's exciting; different; mischievious, and before you know it you're already lines further in the song and you don't even remember singing them. "_I wish I knew how..._"

"_Your eyes are like starlight now._" Jack sings happily, because they were, they were like starlight. He could see your eyes twinkling from his branch. You may not be able to hear him, but he was enjoying the sound of your voice; he could almost pretend that you could. Hopping down from his branch, he stood a few yards behind you, at the edge of the clearing.

"_To break this spell._" You barely manage to get the words out, because you can hear him, see him, out of the corner of your eye, standing there, watching, but you don't turn around yet, because you really don't want to- you really, really don't want to break this spell. "_I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell._"

"_I ought to say no, no, no, Sir._" And you ought to. Cornered, by a strange boy, in the woods, middle of nowhere? You were certainly not thinking straight. But something about him just intrigued you. You wanted to know him, and your heart spead up even more as he uttered the next words:

"Mind if I move in closer?" He said breathily, almost forgetting the melody. He was lost in the moment, feeling so like there was someone, finally, who saw him, heard him, someone who was singing with him. He knew it was just an illusion, but he couldn't bring himself to break it. He tiptoed towards you cautiously. _Closer, closer..._

"_A-_" You falter slightly as he moves so much closer to you, and you daren't turn around yet. You pick it up quickly again: "_At least I'm going to say that I tried." "What's the sence in hurting my pride?"_ His voice. You can hear it properly now; it's quite deep, attractive, you admit to yourself, but also soft and tentative, yet kind of cocky at the same time. How was that even possible?

"_I really can't stay..._" You sing, slowly standing up, still not facing him, but you can feel him, just a yard away, inching carefully closer. "_Baby, don't hold out._" Jack sings, and there's a twinge of sadness in his voice, because you're standing up; you're leaving and then his illusion will be finished and he'll be alone again, like he always is. He wants you to stay. But you don't even know he exists. **_"Oh, but it's cold outside..."_** You sing in perfect harmony.

And then you turn around.

You're looking at your feet and he wonders when you're going to walk right through him. He's so close to you, and he can feel and see your warm breath in the air, the snowflakes caught in your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. It's comforting, though he doesn't know why or how. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he knows his hand will just pass through you as if he were thin air. He breathes deeply. He's always moving, energetic, excited, but now, he just wants to stand there and hover in this moment for as long as he can. He just wants you to fill him with the warmth that you are practically radiating right now, for him to make you laugh and for you to just _be there_, just _talk to him_, just _see him_.

"Please, don't make her go away." He says to himself, letting out a breath of air slowly.

Your heart flutters and you wonder why he is referring to you in the third person. He is so close, his face inches away and you feel his breath against your face. It's cold.

Jack steadies himself for the moment you walk away.

And that's the moment when your eyes eyes travel upwards tentatively to meet his and your cheeks flush immeadiately.

This boy is unlike anyone you have seen.

Snow white hair and eyes like piercing, blue crystals that look right through you. He's wearing a blue hoodie (hood up)- you note somewhere in the back of your mind that it's covered in frost- and he is pale. His face is smooth and his eyelids seem heavy.

He is very handsome.

He still doesn't think that you are looking at him. He just thinks maybe you've seen a squirrel in the tree behind him and he can stay there just a bit longer.

"I don't want her to leave." He whispers, eyes downcast, inching even closer, your noses barely a centimetre apart. You see his eyes are focussed on your lips and you feel a surge of excitement, mingled with anxiousness, bubble up in your stomach.

"I don't... I don't have to..." You trail off, because now you're staring at his lips too, and they are oh-so-very distracting.

He lets out a gasp and jumps back. You notice a blush creeping up on his cheeks and shock in his eyes. He's breathing heavily and his mouth is hanging open.

You are able to look up into his incredible, blue eyes for a moment before you lose your nerve and take a step back. You don't really understand what you did wrong, but mock yourself inwardly for being able to cock up such a perfect situation.

And, in the meantime, his heart is thudding in his chest so hard it's dizzying.

It feels like time has stopped turning. He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. You _spoke. _He can't have imagined it, can he? You know he is there. You must know. Suddenly he can't move. He's glued to the spot. He feels exitement and happiness bubble up inside him, but it's all so wrapped up in sheer disbelief that he can't quite process it yet. He splutters for a moment, eyes wide with hope and somehow fear, praying he wasn't just imagining this.

When he doesn't do anything but gape at you, you step back again.

"Oh, God, sorry..." You mumble, cheeks turning red instantly. You've always been shy, especially around the opposite sex. You keep your eyes firmly focussed on your boots, but when he doesn't say anything, you glance up again.

He's still gawking at you, and you're about to leave, utterly humiliated, when he asks a very strange question.

"You... You can... C-C-Can you hear me?" He manages to stammer.

You furrow your brow at the question. "Of course I can. Did you think... I was deaf or something?"

"I-" He chokes. He lets out a little breath of relief and happiness, seemingly lost for words. Then, almost scared of what the answer would be, voice full of dread and disbelief yet still so full of hope, he says:

"And you... Can... You c-c-can... s-see me?"

He leans towards you, as close as you were before, his gaze is fixed on you, wide-eyed and scared of what the answer might be, almost not daring to believe this is actually happening, daring you to disappear. His eyes drill holes into your soul and you almost get lost inside them, before you answer, quietly:

"Yes, I-" You're looking for the right thing to say. It's difficult to concentrate with an extremely attractive boy's nose just inches away from your own. "Of course."

He lets out a sort of strangled gasp at the words, stepping back a little. He feels tears start to well up in his eyes but blinks them away, hoping you didn't notice, and splutters for a few moments. "She..." He's smiling, yet still looking for a way for this to all be a trick, just a hallucination or prank. But it isn't. You can really see him. An even wider smile breaks across his face. "She really can. She sees me. She really sees me!" And suddenly there's a gust of wind and he does a backflip, right there in front of you and you're sort of speachless, gazing at this boy and trying to figure out what exactly he is. "Now, look, I'm sorry but this really isn't funny." You say defensively, angry that you were so naive. It was just some guy, playing with you, toying with you. You turn to walk away but he catches your arm, fiercly. "Wait, don't go!" The boy says and you can see it, behind his eyes, behind the boundless happiness he is feeling in this moment, a kind of fear. Fear of you leaving? It seems like the only explanation but it's also extremely unlikely. "Explain, then!" You snap. "And let go of me!" You're suddenly a little afraid of this strange guy holding you so tightly, but he obliges and lets you go. He looks a little upset you would think he'd hurt you.

"Who are you?"

He contemplates his answer momentarily, then says:

"I'm Jack Frost."

"Don't be stupid. Jack Frost doesn't exist." You repeat the words that have been said to you over and over, by family, friends, even people who hardly knew you.

But they are a lie.

Because he does exist. He does exist and now some bloke has found out that you believe in him and he's playing some sick joke on you.

He looks a bit hurt, but covers it up quickly as he bristles angrily at the statement.

"Oh really?" He takes one more step towards you and suddenly you are aware of how close you are again. He looks down at you, almost pressed against you, blue eyes studying you intently, and you're actually quite intimidated. He places his hands on each of your arms, and before you even have time to protest, everything is gone.

You are flying.

The ground is gone. The forest is gone. Everything is gone except for you and Jack- because right now, as he whisks you into the air and you are screaming your head off, there is no denying that that is who he is. He really is Jack Frost.

You grab ahold of the fabric of his hoodie in despiration, clinging onto him for dear life. There is snow all around you, swirling through the air wildly as the wind roars and the cold stings your face. It feels like you are inside a hurricane. You are probably hundreds of feet in the air, you register somewhere in the back of your mind. The bit of it that isn't screaming. He's still gripping you tightly, though, and you are able to calm down a bit when you realize he won't drop you. You muster up the courage to open your eyes to squint at him. You can make just out his face through the ice and the snow.

He looks smug.

Git.

Of course he would.

You try to speak but choke on your words, then when he laughs, you regain your voice. "Alright, alright, you're Jack Frost! I believe you! YOU ARE JACK FROST!" You yell at the top of your lungs over the roaring of the snow and wind and ice until, suddenly, there is ground beneath you again and Jack has let you go. You blush as you pry your hands loose of his hoodie, flustered and embarrassed. You brace yourself against a nearby tree and try to regain your composure. He laughs.

"So.. So you really are Jack Frost..." "The one and only." He grins. "Well, I'm... I'm Y/N." You say quietly, shooting a small smile his way and breathing deeply. _You are talking to Jack Frost. _You suddenly realize it, and start laughing, covering your mouth with your gloved hand. "Hey, hey, hey, what's so funny?" He says. You see the mischievious smile on his face. "Nothing... It's just... I mean, I'm actually talking to you. I'm actually talking to Jack Frost." He grins. "Yes, yes you are!" He's so happy. So very happy. He's not alone. Not anymore. "I'm so glad I found you." He blurts out without thinking, caught up in the moment. Finally, someone. Finally. Finally. He smiles and grins and hops around out of sheer delight for a moment, waving his staff in the air and making tiny, freak snowstorms break out in patches of air above their heads, before he notices the suspicious look in your eyes. He stops.

"What?"

He's afraid he did something wrong.

"Are you a dream?" You question.

He blinks. "What?" He says again.

"I mean, what are the chances... I come into some magical wood and suddenly Jack Frost is this extremely attractive-" Jack blushes. Extremely... Attractive? "-teenage boy, just around my age, and he sings my favorite Christmas song with me and... Are you even real?" Your eyes are downcast and glassy as you make your way towards him, until you're only a foot apart. Jack's heart rate speeds up as he looks down at you. You are right. This all still seems like some strange dream. You don't meet his gaze. Instead, you reach out your hand. Jack's breath hitches and it feels like his heart stops when you slide your hand over his chest, resting it right above his heart.

"What...?" He repeats again breathlessly. You still don't look him in the eyes. You seem strangely entranced, concentrated. "I'm just... Just making sure you're real. Making sure you're really here." You have wanted to meet Jack Frost for such a long time, you just can't believe he's really standing there, in front of you, real, alive, but the steady beating of his heart (you blush as you realise it's beating rather fast, too) is proof. He's there. He's actually there.

Suddenly you snap back to reality. "Sorry." You mumble, turning redder and redder. "I'm being stupid." You try to pull your hand away, but suddenly Jack lets out a strangled breath and you feel his cold, strong hand cover yours and places it over his heart again. "Don't." He manages to say. He feels the warmth and the life coursing through your veins. He had never been touched before, but this, _this, _this was something else. Something new. Yes, perhaps the Easter Bunny had hit him a few times, but he had never, ever, been touched like this. He could feel your warmth pressing against his chest and the beating of your heart and sensation was indescribable. He closes his eyes. "Don't. Please."

He sounds so broken, and you wonder what could have made him that way. You just let him keep you there and focus on the beating of his heart. Has he really never felt this before? Has he always longed for a touch that never came? And suddenly you realize, with a great lurch in your gut, how alone he must be to feel this way. To long for a touch so simple, so natural; it's not even intimate, yet still he can hardly believe he's feeling it. The thought makes your heart clench horribly and you place a gentle hand on his arm comfortingly.

You stand there for what feels like hours, until, finally, you break apart.


	2. Seeing You

**Oh my God, thank you for the reviews! I just couldn't resist writing the next chapter after you were all so supportive! Reviews mean the absolute world to me. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.**

**Now, shout outs! (Sorry, can't resist.)**

**Foxchick1: I hope you're right! Thank you!**

**Glimmer25: I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And yes, Bunny will very likely surface later in the story. :)**

**I-Am-Jack Frost: Your wish is my command. Enjoy.**

**BELIEVER: Thank you!**

**Redolivia: I'm glad; that's what I was going for!**

**Summergirl987: Thank you very much.**

**Batgirl13: Aww, I'm so glad you think it's that good! I hope you enjoy this. Thank you!**

* * *

"Sorry." He says, releasing your hand from his grip, feeling slightly stupid.

You pull your hand back and it hangs limply at your side, while the other is still resting on his bicep, almost subconsciously. "It's fine." You reply warmly, smiling at him. Jack seems to snap out of his dazed state. He pulls his hood down, revealing more of his fluffy, snow-white head of hair and grins goofily at you, before jumping backwards into the air quite suddenly and then he's just sitting there, balanced happily and precariously upon his staff. You gaze up at him in awe and bite your lip, wanting to ask so many things, but still a little nervous about how to go about it. Jack smirks. "Go on." He says smugly, his eyebrow quirked, gesturing with his hand for you to ask away.

Where to start?

"Can I... Can I just...?" You say tentatively, reaching a hand towards his staff. He pulls it out from under him and drops down in front of you, twirling it in the air momentarily before offering it to you. You grasp it carefully. "Don't worry. It won't break." Jack jokes, letting his staff go and shoving his hands in his pockets. You weigh the object in your hands. It's old, you think, and you wonder how long Jack has been here. _How long he's been alone._

You swallow and inspect the object further, tracing your fingers over the icy patterns curiously. "It's very nice. Did you do this?" You gesture to the frost. He nods proudly. "How long have you had it?" "Around three hundred years." He winks. Your stomach does another uncomfortable flip, party because of the wink, partly because he has been alone for _three centuries_. "How'd you find it?" He shrugs. "It was just there. I came out of the ice and there it was, just lying there, on the lake, and when I picked it up, it started creating these little patterns everywhere. Took me a little while to get the hang of it, but once I did, boy, did I have fun." He grins again. He decides to leave out the bit before he came out of the ice; the cold, the dark, the despair and the fear that were the only things he could feel, see, the only things he knew.

He shakes the memory out of his mind as you hand him his staff back. He raps it on the ground sharply, causing more little snowflakes to dance around you. You let out a small giggle.

"Show off."

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning- almost lounging- on his staff a couple of metres away.

You're about to ask another question, when he interjects: "Ah-ah," He waggles his finger at you. "My turn."

You roll your eyes at him. "I hardly think that's fair. I mean, you're _Jack_ flipping _Frost_! Of _course_ I have questions about you! I'm just a boring old _girl_. What questions could you _possibly_ have about _me_?" He feels his stomach do an excited flip when he hears you say his name, as if he's _Jack Frost_, some kind of celebrity that everyone knows about and that you'd be insane not to have heard of.

"Well, for a start..." He looks at his feet mischieviously before locking eyes with you, a sly, smug-looking smirk plastered on his face. "_'Extremely attractive'_?"

Your cheeks turn impossibly red and you play with your hands nervously, your gaze flickering everywhere but his sky-blue eyes. "Y-Yeah, well..." You splutter, searching for a comeback and positively burning beneath his gaze. You stop playing with your hands and finally look up at him. He's still looking at you with that insufferably smug expression on his face.

You need to wipe that stupid look off of it at all costs.

"Yeah, well, what about," You hope the comeback isn't too harsh and at the same time that it isn't too weak. You muster up all your courage and saunter over to him in a sort of half joking, half seductive way (that does the trick; he's raising his eyebrows at you now, his lips parted ever so slightly, and you celebrate the fact that he seems to be breathing just that little bit harder), fix him with an over-dramatic gaze and place your hands on his chest (he shrinks back slightly; he certainly is breathing harder, and the surprised look in his eyes tells you that he has no clue how to handle this situation) and look up at him (he shrinks back further and somewhere in your mind you note his arms are lifted up, hovering in the air as if unsure wether to touch you or not) before saying in your best deep, husky voice: "Oh, please, don't make her go away." You give him your best pout and cheer inside your head for the effect your comeback has.

Suddenly, his ears are turning positively scarlet as a deep blush creeps up his neck and makes it's way up to his cheeks. He swallows and opens his mouth, only to close it again once he realises that no words will leave it, anyway. You half smile, half smirk as you turn around and retreat one, two, three steps away from him. You let out a breath you didn't even know you had been holding at the same time he does.

"That was- I was-" He furrows his brow as he tries to find the right words to explain himself. You turn to him and laugh lightly to tell him that it's fine. He smiles at you and starts chuckling, too. "Extremely attractive is worse!" He protests jokingly. You burst into a fit of giggles and he doesn't seem to be able to stop laughing. "Ha ha, yeah right! Yours was much worse!" You reply between giggles, as he jumps up from his position lying against his staff and hops over to you (still chuckling). You sit down next to each other, beside the frozen lake, still giggling and chuckling and joking all the while. "Like you thought I couldn't even hear you, when you were just inches away! Why'd you think I couldn't see you, anyway?" You jest between giggles.

His laughter dies down and you look at him beside you. He's trying hard to keep the care-free grin on his face, but his guarded gaze is fixed on some inconsequential point in the ice of the lake, as if he doesn't want to look up at you. "No one usually does." He says quietly, trying hard to keep his voice stoic and light-hearted, as if he doesn't care, but small hints of sorrow and anger are leaking through the cracks. You curse mentally. Of course. It had been staring you in the face all this time. You should have connected the dots earlier, with him being so overjoyed at being seen, so lonely in a town seemingly filled with kids, so fascinated by the simplest touch.

_No-one could see him._

You feel another pang of affection for him shoot through your body. "I'm sorry..." You say quietly, eyebrows knitted together in concern. "It's fine." He says, still trying hard to keep his voice steady.

But you know that it's not.

He's been alone.

He's been alone all this time, three _hundred_ years, giving the children snow and fun and happiness and never being seen by any of them. None of them even knew he _existed_. A life of never being seen or heard, touched, never being held in a loved one's arms and being told that everything will be alright. No-one to help him, no-one to talk to him, no-one to befriend him.

Just solitude, day in and day out, _scared_ and _alone_ and never understanding who he was and _why_ he was being punished in this way, slowly growing to hate himself more and more, simply because he had no-one else to blame. Never understanding why he, Winter, is always so _hated_, so _wrong_, shut out of houses and wished away by the people he wants nothing more than to just be held by. No-one to protect him from nightmares or hold his hand. No-one to comfort him when he was scared or sad. Just no-one.

You don't understand how he does it.

You don't understand how he can laugh so much, have so much energy and mischief and fun when he has had a life like that. You don't understand how he can love the children and people of the town- the _world_- so much when he has never even felt love before. You realise now that not only is he powerful and alone and unbelievably wonderful, but he is so incredibly brave, too.

"No-one..?" You say tentatively, turning your body, not just your head, towards him now. He just nods. How he is able to keep himself so together is beyond you. You'd probably be spilling your heart out to anyone who would listen, were you in his situation. Another pang of pain and affection courses through your body. "I really am sorry... Really." You say again. What are you supposed to say to someone in a situation like this? You'd never been any good at comforting people, and right now it was the worst feeling in the world not to be able to help him.

"It's _fine_." He says again, a little irritation in his voice. He hates it. He feels pitied and angry and _vulnerable_ and he hates it. How did the conversation ever manage to get so personal? He wishes you would just stop and change the subject and leave it alone. If there was one thing he never, ever want to feel again, like in those hours, days, months? he didn't know how long anymore, before he came out of the ice, it was _vulnerable_.

He felt it now. And he didn't like it.

You stare at him, his pale face, his unwavering, concentrated gaze never leaving that one spot on the ice, his lips and hair and _eyes_, so guarded yet you could see all his pain just hidden away under the surface.

"_Jack,_" His name on your tounge is so soft and feminine and full of affection he's startled by it, and suddenly, in a fit of bravery, you intertwine your fingers in his, startled by how deathly cold he is but not pulling back. "_Jack,_" He feels your warmth again, like when your hand found his thumping heart beneath the surface of his hoodie, but now there's something more; there's care and affection and concern, and he looks up at you through his lashes, slightly overwhelmed.

"_I_ can see you, Jack." You say in the same soft, emotion-filled voice. You squeeze his hand and Jack, tentatively, squeezes back. He's amazed at the touch; there are so many things unsaid, yet those fingers wrapped to tightly around his own say them all. He smiles weakly at you, trying to look his usual cocky self but failing miserably.

You think that, yes, you can see him. You can see his mask and his pain, his bravery and his fear, his love and his loneliness. And that's when you decide that you are going to do everything in your power to help him. That you will try your very best to stop him being alone. That's when you realise that you are never going to leave the side of this absolutely wonderful person.


	3. Story Reported: Dear Readers

**Dear Readers,**

**I have been informed that these stories are not allowed on - I didn't know this. It was wrong of me not to read the rules properly and I have been reported because of it. Though I myself am not sure why these stories are not allowed, I am sure FF has their reasons, and as a result I will have to change the fic.**

**Not drastically; It just won't be a Reader Insert story anymore. The Character will have a name, haircolour and eyecolour, family, hobbies. I know some of you don't like Jack/OC stories, but it is the best I can do. **

**I will, however, be posting the original Reader Insert story on Quotev. If you message me I will be happy to send you the link, or you could just look for me on there: my username is Aeden, not my real name, I might add, but the OC I will be creating to be able to post it here on . Please, do continue reading and reviewing. **

**I am not going to pretend I am not upset about this. I understand FF must have a reason for denying the uploading of interactive stories; I just can't think of one. Only being able to post this on Quotev will, undeniably, result in less views and readers and that really does make me sad, because the the feeling I get when someone tells me I did well writing Jack or that my story is amazing... Well, nothing compares to it. Fanfiction is such a perfect place for helpful critisism and reviews it's a shame knowing something I'm proud of and something that is really the first story I ever followed through on (i.e. multiple chapters) will not be on here.**

**To the Guest who informed me:**

**Thank you for telling me about it. I am quite ashamed I didn't read the rules thoroughly. I will change the story as quickly as I can, but please, bear with me. I don't want to be banned, I really don't, so just give me some time, okay? I am happy you told me so that I know for future reference, etc, however, I do not appreciate you making assumptions about me. It's just something I really dislike, I can't help it. Just because I violated the rules- by mistake- it doesn't mean I'm going to fight them. I will not 'make lame excuses', so don't just assume I will. Please, don't get high-and-mighty.**

**Goodbye, Readers, or, and I would love you for it, you could stay tuned for the story of Aeden/Jack when it returns. Otherwise, please visit the story on Quotev and don't forget to drop a comment!  
**

_**-SE**_

** story/3025814/You-Can-See-Me/  
**


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